A Christmas Miracle?
by BrynnH87
Summary: This was written for the TS Secret Santa.  My recipient wanted angst and something to do with 'long lost friends'.  This is what my muse came up with.  It's an AU first meeting between Jim and Blair.


**Title**: Christmas Miracle?  
><strong>Type<strong>: Gen,  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Teen for language  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 3800

**Warnings**: Just language

It had been a long day, as many were these days. I was a working as a teaching fellow at Rainier University, while trying to get my doctorate. I say 'trying', and not just 'getting', because I had already changed the topic of my dissertation three times. My advisor, Eli Stoddard, was about ready to string me up if I didn't settle on something soon. Hell, I'd had enough time to write three doctorate theses if only I could commit to one topic. But, since the topic that my _heart_ wanted me to do was off-limits (as least as far as Eli was concerned) nothing else held my interest long enough for me to actually finish one topic. Dr. Stoddard often said that I had probably done enough research on_ any_ of the topics I had started to get a good thesis, three times over. Research wasn't the problem. I _loved_ to research – would probably do it just for fun once I actually had written my dissertation –but, since I couldn't write about sentinels, my heart just wasn't in it. Not that I didn't _want_ to write something else, or that I didn't want write _anything_; I just felt that I should wait. Something wouldn't let me commit to anything else. I still held out hope of finding a real live sentinel. Eli said I was a dreamer, and while that was one of the things that endeared me to him, he felt that I should give up my dream- just this once-and write something else… _anything_ else. As much as I respected Eli, I just couldn't let go of the sentinel thing… not completely… not just yet.

I had just enough time to stop by a friend's house to drop off some books I had borrowed for yet another possible research topic, before I had to be at the police department. As whacky as it sounds – since I'm a dyed in the wool pacific – one of the dissertations that I was attempting (at Eli's urging) – was to study a modern day closed society, such as the police department. Dr. Stoddard had a good friend who happened to be a friend of the Police Chief, and somehow enough strings got pulled that I ended up riding along with a pair of cops from the Major Crimes Unit. Rafe and Brown were nice guys, and eventually came to, not only tolerate me, but to actually somewhat like having me around. Simon Bank, the Captain of the MCU had finally stopped growling every time I walked through the door. He was obviously a person who did _not_ like to be backed into a corner, and just as obviously, that must have been how he felt when the Police Chief had ordered him to let me ride along.

O0o0o0o0o0o0O

I pulled into the parking lot behind Terry's apartment complex, hopped out and hurried to his door. I had about a half hour before Brown and Rafe started their shift, and I had really hoped to have something for dinner that didn't come from a fast food restaurant. Man, I _hated_ that stuff…heart attack on a bun…but with my schedule, that's about all I had time for.

I opened my car door and loaded up my arms with all the books I was returning – so much so that I had to nudge the car door closed with my hip. By the time I got to Terry's apartment I was really starting to wish I had made two trips. I couldn't manage to balance the books to be able to knock, so I kicked the door a couple of times.

In no time, the door opened and I heard my friend's amused voice. "Hmmm, a pile of books knocking on my door. Must be Blair Sandburg back there somewhere."

"Very funny, man." I answered, not really very amused since my arms were now starting to cramp. "Take some of these, will you?"

He did and we went inside. "You know you could returned these a few at a time, right?"

"More coming in everyday, man," I answered. "Gotta make room."

As I stepped inside the apartment, a man I had never seen before helped himself to the top half of books still left in my arms, and placed them beside the pile Terry had put on the kitchen table.

As soon as I had gotten rid of the remaining books, the man held out his hand by way of introduction and said, "Jim Ellison."

"Blair Sandburg," I answered. "Thanks for the help."

Terry finally got around to introducing us. "Yeah, sorry I didn't introduce you. Jim's a long lost friend. We grew up together."

"He went to school with my little brother," Ellison explained further.

"Jim was kind of 'big brother' to all of us. When he got back in town and didn't have a place to go, I had to help out."

"Well," I answered articulately, "I'm glad you had a place to stay. You grew up in the area, though, right? Family not still around?"

"Family's a sore topic." Ellison's eyes were sad as he said this, but I got a deep sense that the sadness went deeper than just estranged family.

"I'm sorry, man. I didn't have a right to pry."

"No problem Chief."

'Great,' I thought, 'another one who liked nicknames.' I had gotten my fair share of 'kid' or 'hippy-boy', even 'hair boy' from Brown; or other nicknames that weren't nearly as flattering as those. I guess, all in all, 'Chief' wasn't that bad.

"Hey," Terry interrupted. "We were just going to go out to dinner. Wanna join us?"

"Nah, man. Gotta run. Shift starts at the PD in…" I look at my watch, "… fifteen minutes! Well, there goes changing cloths."

"You work at the police department?" Ellison seemed incredulous.

Any other day, I'd have to give him a hard time about that, but I really was running late, so I just explained. "No, I just volunteer there. Long story and no time to tell it right now." I turned to Terry. "Raincheck on dinner?" I turned back to Ellison. "How long are you staying with Terry?"

Ellison looked unsure, but it was Terry who answered. "As long as I can convince him to. He's good company."

Ellison looked like he very much doubted being good company. There had to be a very interesting, and probably sad, story there, but I really had no time to explore it now. I knew I really did want to hear it sometime, though. "I'm off tomorrow night if you both want to catch some dinner then. My treat."

"Well," Terry jumped in before Jim could answer. "Free dinner is always good. See you here tomorrow."

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oO

Over the next several weeks, I spent quite a few dinners with Terry and Jim. I had always been comfortable with Terry, but with Jim, it was something different. It was like I had known him all my life. But the more time I spent with him, the more I noticed that he was a little different. He reacted strongly to odors, ate only bland food, and tended to blank out from time to time.

My sentinel-obsessed mind jumped to conclusions, and I so wanted to ask Jim if his hearing, vision, and sense of touch was enhanced as well, but I put it out of my mind. The chances of finding a sentinel after of all this time were really pretty slim. So, I didn't think any more about it.

That is, until I heard about his experience for the last 18 months. Before he came to stay with Terry, the man had been in Peru – the only survivor of a plane crash. From all of my research about sentinels, I know that that kind of isolation could have brought his enhanced senses online.

I finally got up the nerve to discuss it with him.

It didn't go well.

"That's about enough Chief!" Ellison was pissed. "You barge in here…"

"I didn't barge," I started, but he continued as if I had never spoken.

"And tell me that I'm some kind of _caveman_, and you expect me to…"

This time I cut _him_ off. "I said you _might_ be a sentinel, which was a throwback to pre-civilized man, and while I guess I probably could have said it better, I…"

He ran his hand through his hair and turned away from me. "Look Chief. Just leave me alone, okay? I was in the jungle, I had a hell of tough time, but that _didn't_ turn on some magic powers. I'm _not_ a caveman, and I _don't_ want to be studied."

"Jim, look," I tried to calm him down a little. "I can help with your senses – help you to control them."

"I don't _want _to control them, Sandburg!"

'Uh-oh' I thought, 'back to _Sandburg_, not good.'

But he was still speaking, "I want them _gone_!"

"But you admit you have enhanced senses?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Damn, you're like a dog with a bone." He ran his hand through his hair again. (I couldn't help but wonder if that had anything to do with his receding hairline). "Yes, okay? Are you happy Sandburg? Yes, I have enhanced senses – all five of them. But they're not some kind of damned gift! They're a _curse_. They flair up whenever they want. I never know when I'm going to get a massive headache because of some high-pitched fire alarm a mile away. I can't eat anything with any taste at all, because the slightest seasoning can make me gag when my sense of taste flairs up. I black out more and more often, and I have no idea why. I don't _want _them, Sandburg!"

"The blackouts are called 'zones', Jim, and it's because you're concentrating too hard on one sense. I can help with…"

He cut me off again. (I really wished he'd stop doing that). "Okay, Mr. Know-it-all. You say you know all about sentinels and can help me out. Answer one question." He paused just long enough for me to nod my acceptance and he continued. "Do you know how to make them all go away?"

"Well, no Jim, but we can…"

"Then you _can't_ help me. You don't know _shit_ about how to _really_ help me, so just get the hell out!" With that he started to walk toward the door, expecting me to follow. When I didn't, he grabbed the front of my shirt. "Now listen to me you neo-hippy, witchdoctor, _punk_! I don't want your help. I don't want to be researched or studied. I don't want the damned senses, and I don' want _you_ around anymore, trying to tell me what a _blessing_ the damned things are!"

When I didn't react, he turned toward the door, bringing me with him since he still had the front of my shirt in a strangle hold, and then he shoved me backwards. Not enough to hurt me, just hurt my pride a little. But, to emphasize his point, he yelled (really yelled) "Get the hell away from me Sandburg! And _don't _come back!"

I didn't think that that was quite the best time to remind him that it was actually Terry's apartment, and Terry was still my friend, so Jim couldn't really tell me not to come back. Jim was really past logical reasoning by that point. I was reluctant to leave it like that, but I couldn't figure out anything I could do that wouldn't run the risk of really getting me hurt (I had no doubt that Jim could really hurt me if he lost control of his anger. I didn't know him well enough to know how much more angry he'd have to get to lose control, but I didn't want to stick around and find out).

By the time I got to my car, I was _sure_ I didn't want to leave things like this with Jim. I looked back to the balcony of Terry's apartment. Jim was standing there, looking at me. I didn't know what to do. Should I wave? Should I go back? Should I smile? Should I call up to him? I just didn't know what I was supposed to do in that situation. So, I smiled a little, waved a little, and then got in my car. I told myself I'd give him some time to cool down, and I'd go over to Terry's sometime over the Christmas break. Maybe bring Wonderburger that Jim liked so much, or maybe his favorite kind of beer. By then, maybe he would be willing to go back to being friends at least. I guessed we'd just take the sentinel thing one day at a time.

I wasn't able to stick to the plan. By Christmas Eve, I decided I just had to go over and try to fix this. I hadn't known Jim that long, but it felt like I'd just lost my best friend, and I just couldn't leave it at that!

Oo0o0o0o0o0o0oO

"Blair! Hi! I didn't know you were coming over!" Terry greeted me warmly at the door. "Come on in. I was headed out, but…"

I interrupted. "I actually came to see Jim, if he's around."

Terry's face just fell. "I was sure you would have heard."

Now _my_ face fell. "About what?"

"It was the damnedest thing, Blair." He started. "I came home two nights ago around 7, and Jim was standing on the balcony, just staring out into the parking lot. I called to him, but not only didn't he answer, he didn't even flinch. I touched him, shook him – _nothing_ man. No movement at all. I had to watch his eyes a long while just to see if he was at least blinking. He was, but not nearly often enough. He was breathing just fine, his heart was fine, he just … I don't know… wasn't home!"

I was speechless. God, it sounded like a zone, but I didn't know they could last that long. I had left at 5 that night, and Jim was in about the same position that Terry described. What had he zoned on? "Staring at the parking lot?"

"Well, that's the direction his eyes were pointed but I don't think he was seeing _anything_ anymore."

"Where is he now?"

"That's where I was rushing off to. He's still in the hospital. I didn't know what else to do. He wouldn't respond to me. He wouldn't move. I couldn't get him inside and I couldn't just leave him out there. I knew I needed help, so I called the ambulance. They didn't know what to do for him either. The doctors at the ER were baffled. They said he's catatonic and have been running all sorts of tests to see if they can find out why. But, nothing so far. They just don't know what to do."

I stood there dumbfounded so he continued, "I've been going up and sitting with him. I'm really the only other person he knows in the area beside you. I don't know if he can hear me, and it doesn't really seem to help, but it's the only thing I can think of to do for him."

"You're a good friend," I said, stupidly, because I couldn't think of what else _to_ say.

"How about you come with me, Blair." Terry added. "You won't have to stay long if you don't want to, but it might do some good for Jim to hear another familiar voice. It sure as hell couldn't hurt."

I must have paused a little too long because he continued, "I'm being stupid. I forgot it's Christmas Eve. You've got to be heading to a party or something."

"No, I'm not. I really did come to talk to Jim." I finally found my voice. "We had a fight that night. When I left, he was standing on the balcony."

Terry knew me too well. "It's not your fault, Blair."

"Not directly, no." I admitted, "But if I hadn't brought up the …. conversation he got angry about…. Maybe it wouldn't have happened. Or, if I had known sooner, maybe I could have helped. I don't know."

"Yeah, and that _is my_ fault. I should have called. I'm not sure why I didn't think of it." Terry started, but then took me by the arm and started toward the door. "But, you know now, and maybe you _can_ help, somehow. Let's go see." I could tell he didn't really think I could help any more than he had, but wanted to make me feel better.

Oo0o0o0o0o0oO

When we got to Jim's room, I was shocked. The vibrant, if haunted, man I had met, was gone. The man lying on that bed was pale, and fragile and just… lost! I went to his bedside and took his hand.

"What's going on, big guy?" I asked, not expecting an answer. "If this is a zone, it's an awfully long one. What did you zone on, man?"

He blinked and I wanted to get excited, thinking that he was responding, but I remembered Terry had mentioned that Jim had been blinking all along. I didn't know what to do. Unless I could figure out what he had zoned on, I wasn't at all sure I could do anything for him. I had hoped that I would walk in and it would be obvious what the problem was, and I'd come up with something brilliant to counteract it, and all would be right with the world.

I started to think. What would I do if I knew exactly what Jim was zoned on? I would stimulate his other senses and hope that that would lead him back….from wherever he was.

So, I decided to just stimulate all of his senses, and somewhere along the line I was bound to hit something other than the one he was zoned on.

I talked incessantly (which most of my friends would say I do anyway). I rubbed his hand. At some point, a nurse brought in a tray of food for me, so I waved the broccoli under his nose, and dipped my finger into the pudding and placed a small bit on his tongue. There didn't seem to be anything to do to stimulate his sight. He was still staring straight ahead…had been the whole time I was there. The nurses had already come in several times to put drops in his eyes.

I don't know how long I sat there. But I was getting tired. I finally stopped talking and laid my head on his bed beside his hand. I think I fell asleep because when I finally straightened up, my neck and back were killing me. I put my hand in the small of my and stretched my neck and back. When I sat back down and looked at Jim again, with the thought to start talking again, I saw him looking at me. He was really looking at me.

"Hey big guy," I said with a smile. "Are you back with us?"

He didn't answer, but he was looking at me. That'd do for now.

It wasn't long though before he was moving his head and looking around. I had taken his hand again, and now he was squeezing it. After what felt like hours, though I'm sure it was only minutes, he tried to talk. He had to start a couple of different times, but finally he got out, "You came back, Chief."

"Sure I did, Jim." I looked at him, but I happened to think that maybe he was saying he hadn't wanted me to. It wasn't like he could really control his tone of voice right now…he could barely talk at all. "I know you told me not to, but I couldn't leave you here all by yourself."

"Glad you didn't listen to me." He croaked. "Tried to listen to you, but you got to far away."

"Listen to me?" I asked articulately. "What do you mean listen, Jim?"

"Your heartbeat."

"Jim, when did you listen to my heartbeat? When I left, you mean? When you were on the balcony?"

He nodded. "I didn't realize what the sound was, at first. It was soothing, constant. But when you left, it got softer. I didn't even realize I was still trying to listen to it, but I was. You got farther and farther away until I couldn't hear it anymore."

I squeezed his hand. "You zoned, Jim….This is what I was telling you about. When a sentinel….and I _know_ you don't want to be called that….concentrates on one sense, he gets lost. That's why every sentinel has a guide."

"You're my guide, Chief. That has to be why I tried to follow your heartbeat."

I had never really given any thought about a sentinel having one specific guide. I kind of thought that anybody could do it. But, if that was true, Jim could have tuned in to anyone's heartbeat, if that's what he needed to do to ground himself. Terry would have been the logical choice. Jim had been living with him almost the whole time he was back in Cascade. So, if Jim found himself tuning into _my _heartbeat, without even meaning to…maybe he was right. Maybe I _was_ HIS guide.

I covered our joint hands with my other hand. "I think I just might be, Jim." Our eyes locked, and I knew I would do anything for this man. "I'm just happy you're back with us, man."

Jim's eyes left mine and went to someone in the doorway.

"What the hell?" Terry was as elegant as ever. "God, Jim. You're a sight for sore eyes!"

"You too, Terry." Jim rubbed his eyes. "In my case, my eyes are literally sore."

"Of course they are Jimbo; they've pretty much been open for two days!" Terry shook his head, as if trying to break himself out of a trance. "I'll go get a nurse. Man, they are _not_ going to believe this. It's a Christmas miracle. That's what it is!" Terry kept talking as he left the room.

I turned back to Jim. Maybe it was a Christmas miracle. I had finally found my sentinel! Of course, I could see right away that I _still_ couldn't write about sentinels for my dissertation. There'd be no way to keep Jim's identity 100% secret, and there was _no_ way I was going to risk Jim's safety. No way! So, I'd stick to volunteering at the PD. I _was_ getting really good stuff there. Besides, I really liked the guys.

Hey, I wonder if Jim would be interested in police work?

End


End file.
